Home Videos
by Kaz1167
Summary: It all starts when they decide to watch old home videos with the twins. He notices the glances between himself and Haru, the way they communicate without words, a simple look between them enough to convey an entire conversation. But when a forgotten memory appears on screen, Makoto is forced to confront his feelings for his best friend.


For the first few hours of the night, the videos are simply replays of recent memories.

A Christmas from a year ago, in which Ren and Ran spend eighty percent of the video bickering over who gets to open the next present, while a bleary-eyed, just-out-of-bed, glasses-clad Makoto attempts to pacify both of his siblings. Haru slumps in behind him, a shirt two sizes too big hanging on his narrow frame, and Makoto's parents giggle from behind the camera.

The next is of a summer trip to the beach. Ren and Ran continuously play "tag" with the tide, getting as close to the ocean as possible before darting away from the grasp of the water. This video noticeably lacks Makoto, the camera passing over his position on a beach towel far up on the shore twice. The first time, Makoto is alone and looks intensely uncomfortable; the second time the camera comes to focus on him, Haru is beside him on the towel, blue popsicles in hand, and the worrisome look is almost gone from his face. Almost.

Ran bounces up and down on Makoto's bed and joyously points out anytime someone new shows up on screen. About four videos in, an innocent and excited smile crosses her face and she comments on something that has been floating absently in the back of Makoto's mind as they review more and more memories.

"Haru-chan, you're in every video so far too! You're almost on camera as much as Onii-chan!" Haru looks over at Ran as a quiet and a nervous laugh tumbles out of Makoto.

"Heh-he…I noticed that too." Makoto's eyes hesitantly meet blue and, for a second, he sees something unfamiliar flash in them before they return to a stable, cool cerulean.

"Well of course, Onii-chan and Haru-chan are always together! Duh!" Ren adds from his place on the floor between the two swimmers, like it's such an obvious statement that he can't grasp why his sister would point it out.

Makoto looks back at the screen, his heart beating faster than he cares to admit, and tries to calm down. He's getting worked up over nothing. He has always been by Haru's side, and Haru by his; that isn't so strange. But just reflecting on the constant companionship between himself and Haru causes his stomach to make the same flipping feeling he has been fighting for weeks.

It had started when Makoto had tried to hold Haru back from jumping into the shallow pool at the aquarium where children could reach in and touch different sting rays and fish. Haru had turned to glare at Makoto while still tightly wrapped in Makoto's grip, only to come nose-to-nose with his best friend. A look of shock had passed through his blue eyes, a light puff of air ghosting over his lips, and a gripping, clutching, burning feeling surged through Makoto's chest. He released Haru before anything could be said, but something had shifted between them, their usually comfortable dynamic now tainted with an unfamiliar tension. Five weeks had passed and Haru hadn't attempted to jump into anything besides their school's swimming pool.

Suddenly Makoto is hyper aware of every time he and Haru appear on screen. The longer they sit together, watching each hazy memory, the more pressing the unfamiliar tension becomes.

It starts when he notices the glances between himself and Haru, the way they communicate without words, a simple look between them enough to convey an entire conversation. While he isn't surprised to see this caught on camera (this is something they have always done), a heat begins filling his chest the first time he_ really_ examines the gaze they share. A wash of vulnerability and embarrassment surges through him as he notes the frequency of these far too revealing gazes; yet, at the same time, he knows these moments are closed off to anyone beyond the two of them, and that leaves him feeling warmer than before.

What he finds particularly troubling are the similarities between the looks he shares with Haru and the ones his parents exchange during the brief moments they are caught on camera. At some point in their friendship, their bond morphed into something more complex, more intimate, than what is shared between most friends. When that realization dawns on him, it is shocking and expected at the same time, like there's an alarm going off in his head but his hand was already poised to hit the snooze button. A voice in the back of his mind whispers that maybe their relationship never changed; maybe this is how it has always been between them, he'd just been reluctant to accept what that meant for their friendship.

Makoto watches for each time someone new appears in their bubble, glimpses of Nagisa and Rin as the videos reach further back in time, but the connections are never quite as striking as the one that exists between himself and Haru. He sees the spark that flashes between Rin and Haru, but it is remarkably different—less tender, less telling—than what happens every time Makoto and Haru are captured on film.

With all of his focus on his video-self or video-Haru, each small act of affection he sees between them—every tiny touch, every split popsicle, every little shared moment—emphasizes a dose of extra thought, extra consideration for the other.

He wonders if Haru is noticing each moment just like he is; if each time he sees their hands brush on screen, even just as blurred figures in the background of a shot, it makes Haru's pulse quicken like his own. If each captured glance makes heat rush through Haru's chest, just as he can feel a flush rushing from his face through his core. Maybe he'd know if he could work up to the nerve to glance over at the raven haired boy beside him, but this strange mix of terror and anticipation running through his body immobilizes him.

Ren and Ran excitedly babble during each new on-screen event, but eventually sleepiness overtakes them and they drift as their video-selves get younger and younger. Makoto slowly gets up to start the second to last unmarked video, carefully setting his sister's head on the makeshift pillow of his sweatshirt, before returning to his seat on the floor and allowing his sister to nuzzle back into his thigh. With only the soft, blue glow of the TV to brighten the room, a strange sense of intimacy and nostalgia settles over the two of them. It is late, but neither Haru nor Makoto can bring themselves to move the twins and break this moment.

Haru presses play.

There are a few scenes of Makoto and Haru—both eight or nine years old, although Makoto's just barely taller than his older friend—at a birthday party or at the pool, but nothing out of the ordinary happens until about twenty minutes into the video. The shot starts differently than the others and Makoto can't immediately place it in the context of his memories. A shaky hand speedily traces its way through a house as familiar to Makoto as his own home and a warm, somewhat high-pitched voice Makoto recognizes as his calls out to the cameraman from behind the lens.

_"Haru-chan, stop running! I'll get in trouble if anything happens to you or my dad's new camera!" _

_The camera whips around to showcase a young Makoto, hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath, his face turned down and away from the camera. _

_"But I want to show you something special. Come on." A small hand is extended out to him, just making it into the shot. Makoto stands up and glances into the camera, warm viridian shining as he grabs the outstretched hand._

The camera swings forward again and suddenly Makoto is fully aware of this video's contents. Heat rushes to his face and he can't stop the slight tremble in his hands. How could he have forgotten this? How could he have let something so embarrassing and revealing slip his memory at all? How is he supposed to handle this now? Suddenly the room is too warm and he's too close to Haru and his heart is beating too loud. Makoto breaks free from the lure of the screen and the once-forgotten memory this video holds.

"Ah, Haru, I should put Ren and Ran to bed. Do you mind if we stop the video? Or you can keep watching, I'll be back in a moment," he spats, nervously. He's trying to keep everything contained, prevent Haru from seeing through the façade he's employing, as he gently scoops Ran up in his arms and stands. He knows if he doesn't leave soon, it'll be too late.

Haru glances up at Makoto's standing form, refusing to meet his eyes, before speaking.

"I'll just pause it."

Oh. He hadn't considered that.

"Al-alright then, I'll just get the twins settled first…I'll be right back for Ren—"

"It's fine, I'll help you." Makoto is about to protest, but Haru shoots him a look that silences him. Haru pulls Ren into his grasp and stands up, leading the way out of the room as Makoto follows. They have done this a thousand times before—Makoto flicks on the night light in the twins' room, they get them comfortably situated in their respective beds, and that's that—but this time the silence between them feels different, heavier. His heart hammers against chest and for a second he worries that Haru can hear it, with only the sound of covers shuffling and beds gently creaking to pepper the hushed room. As Makoto closes the door behind him, Haru makes his way back to Makoto's room, seemingly unfazed by the entire ordeal.

Makoto sighs and lets his head fall against the closed door before slowly walking back to his room. Maybe this 'tension' is all in his head. Maybe Haru isn't affected by the videos at all. He enters his room to find Haru sitting cross-legged on his bed, remote in hand. Makoto shuffles awkwardly for a second, unsure if he should sit on the floor or sit on the bed with Haru like he normally would, before opting for the bed, careful to put as much space between them as possible. A twinge of guilt runs through him when Haru turns his head slightly to appraise him. He thinks he hears a small sigh from the boy beside him, but he doesn't quite process what it could mean as the video starts playing.

_A surprised Makoto stares off screen, the faintest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips accompanied by a look of incredulity._

_"You wanted to show me your bathtub." _

_"It's new. I can completely sink into it."_

_It looks as though Makoto is fighting back a bit of laughter that transforms into his typical, beaming smile._

_The camera shakes away from his face as Haru sets it down on a stand beside the empty tub. It is awkwardly tilted up, probably perched upon a pile of towels, and captures more of Makoto than Haru._

Makoto's chest feels as if it's about to explode, each beat of his heart painful as he predicts the words his 8-year-old self is about to utter.

_"We should have one that's even bigger in our house, Haru-chan."_

_The smaller boy doesn't reply, but the camera captures his pink face as he glances away from the brunet beside him. Behind him, Makoto's gaze follows him, a gentle smile gracing his face._

_"Don't say embarrassing things, Makoto."_

_The green-eyed boy utters his apology, but he's still smiling._

His palms are sweaty and he can't stop his leg from twitching. It shouldn't matter what they said when they were eight, right? They've grown up. But he's pretty sure the frantic beating of his heart isn't just from embarrassment for his eight-year-old self, but something much more terrifying for him to feel for his friend at this point in their lives, something he's been avoiding naming for years.

Makoto tries to catch his breath as he fights off the words that keep blaring in his head.

_He's in love with Haru._

He has _always_ been in love with Haru.

Somewhere along the line he tried to deny it, push his more-than-friendly feelings for his best friend to the back of his mind where they couldn't threaten him, but with all the glances and touches and moments between them, he's pretty sure the only person he fooled with all the justifications and excuses for their closeness was himself.

A warmth presses upon his clenched hand and his whole body jolts as he searches for the source, his neck pulling as he hastily looks down at the pale hand now covering his. His breath catches in his chest and he looks to Haru's face, the only tell a slight blush on his cheeks, as he refuses to meet Makoto's gaze. Makoto slowly, reluctantly, drags his attention back to the screen when Haru says nothing, and he nervously wonders if Haru can feel his racing pulse through the top of his hand.

_A beat of silence passes between them, before a red-faced Haru reaches over to grasp for the hand at Makoto's side and a large smile spreads across Makoto's face._

_"I'm so glad Haru-chan is my best friend." _

_He pulls Haru into a tight hug and a strangled sound escapes Haru in protest, but the little smile captured on his face betrays him._

_"You're doing it again. Saying embarrassing things…"_

_Makoto only laughs in response. A deep voice calls from the background as the boys break apart and Makoto leaves to go meet Haru's parents. Haru moves to follow after him, before turning to grab the forgotten video camera, fumbling as he searches for the off button and mumbling softly to himself._

_"We'll need a tub and a pool. I can't swim with Makoto in a tub…"_

_He finally finds the off button, the camera just catching the dusting of pink on his cheeks, Haru's glimmering blue eyes the last image to flash on screen before the video cuts off._

Haru's hand tightens around his, his murmured words ringing in his ears, and Makoto can't quite remember how to move or breathe, let alone speak. Sure, Makoto remembers his embarrassing semi-proposal to Haru, but hearing Haru's roundabout acceptance (even if it was almost eight years ago) is brand new to him.

Static lines run across the TV as Haru moves from his place on the bed to sit cross-legged on the floor and rewind the video, his back facing Makoto. Makoto misses the warmth of his hand, his own palms cold and the tiniest bit sweaty. His eyes trace over Haru as he pulls the videotape from the battered VCR and places it in the box with the other videos, the same borrowed shirt from the Christmas video hanging off his shoulder. He swallows nervously, the knowledge that Haru has always understood Makoto almost too well—has always known when he'd be scared before the first tremor of fear ran up his spine, has always known exactly when Makoto needed a shoulder to lean on—leaves him wondering how much Haru really, truly _knows_. He hears another small sigh escape from the boy on the floor, almost as if he's bracing himself for something, and a hopeful question crosses Makoto's mind as he replays all the times it was _Haru_ gazing at him or reaching out to him, Haru's light smile and murmured words wrapping him in warmth. A heavier sigh escapes Haru as Makoto watches the rise and fall of his back.

"Haru…" He stops himself. There are so many things he wants to say, so many questions he wants to ask, the words simultaneously choking him and trying to burst from him.

"Do you still want that? With me?" Haru's stumbling words are strained but warm; they remind him of the night when he said that he appreciated Makoto being there for him and Makoto wonders if that was a confession of sorts, one he'd just been too blind to see. Oddly, it feels as if their roles have been switched—Makoto holding his words while Haru attempts to draw him out—and it brings butterflies to his stomach. Suddenly, he knows exactly what he needs to say. He moves from his place on the bed to sit behind Haru, his blatant refusal to watch Makoto's movements telling in itself, and he lets his forehead fall lightly against his back. Haru stiffens slightly in surprise, but doesn't move away from his weight.

"I want whatever you want, Haru-chan. I just—I want to be by your side forever."

He can feel the heat of his hushed words against Haru's back and he's tempted to place a kiss just over the place where the puff of air meets the orange fabric covering Haru's skin, but he stops himself, waiting for a response.

"I still… want a pool and a tub. With Makoto."

Makoto exhales deeply, unknowingly having held his breathe, and he doesn't try to fight the smile that breaks across his face. He brings his arms around the boy in front of him, pulling him closer against his chest. He wonders if Haru will pull away, only to find his arms covered by Haru's in an awkward sort of half-embrace. They don't stay that way long, though, before Haru lightly pulls his arms away and turns to face him.

Makoto has spent four hours viewing videos of himself and Haru, four hours of analyzing captured gazes and playful glares and teasing glances. He has spent years staring into a pair of blue eyes that he has come to treasure, come to love, having learned to read each flicker, each shift in their coloring. But in all of his time watching the boy before him, nothing has prepared him for the vulnerability, trust, and love swirling in the cerulean depths gazing back at him in this moment.

He tentatively leans forward, hesitant to close his eyes and miss one second of the emotions painting Haru's gaze, but when he feels the light wisp of air from Haru's mouth brush against his own, his lips find Haru's and his eyes drift to a close. He etches each detail of this moment in his memory; the feeling of Haru's hand effortlessly sliding into his own, the feather-light pressure of Haru's mouth against his, the softness of Haru's bottom lip when he slides his tongue gently against it.

Makoto reluctantly pulls away for air and meets Haru's eyes once more, a foreign warmth deepening the blue to which he is accustomed. He may have only realized the extent to which he loves Haru, but he knows, without a doubt, that he has loved him for as long as he can remember. He knows he may never fully understand each tiny shift in the cerulean gaze before him, but he will never tire of trying to learn. And he knows that he will spend the rest of his forever swimming in the blue before him, a drift in an ocean of love.

* * *

This was written for the wonderful Makoharu Festival being hosted on Tumblr. I can't post a link here, but the username is makoharufestival. The fics with the most notes at the end of the festival will receive a prize, so, if you enjoyed my story, I would love it you would like or reblog it on Tumblr (my Free! tumblr account is ishouldbeanimated). Please check out the other entries for the Makoharu Festival as well! :)


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